


My Coworker the Demon

by amclove



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Demon Shane Madej, M/M, No Smut, OR IS IT, a lot of swearing lol, confused and panicked ryan as usual, sfw, sort of crack lmao, what the fuck is shane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-22 09:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22947337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amclove/pseuds/amclove
Summary: “He’s all leg and no substance. Not into it.” Ryan doesn’t want to say the main reason why he isn’t ‘into it.’ Really, the only reason. He can’t care less how tall Shane is. That’s the least of Ryan’s current worries.
Relationships: Implied/Referenced Steven Lim/Andrew Ilnyckyj, Ryan Bergara & Jen Ruggirello, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 20
Kudos: 432





	My Coworker the Demon

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this prompt](https://cyanicas.tumblr.com/post/188499188289/ribbonsflyingoutthewindow)

Ryan’s parents have never had any answer as to why he can see what he does. He’s the only one in the Bergara household with the ability; all they could ever tell him was that it comes from his mother’s side to oldest siblings, every other generation. Ryan hadn’t ever met his mom’s dad, his having passed before Ryan was born, but he had evidently had the sight too.

And it isn’t the fun type of ‘sight’ either, because if it were, Ryan would have seen the ghost that had knocked his toothpaste to the floor of the Queen Mary’s years ago. No, his type of sight comes in the form of an imprint, always visible on the inside wrist of whoever he lays eyes on. Ryan had been informed at a young age that the mark, always a charcoal number 1 through 10, represents the level of general threat that a person might pose, either to themselves or others.

So, say, a toddler would be a 3 (haphazardly grabbing electrical cords, choking on a Lego, etc.), but an everyday adult would be a 5, because most people don’t have the urge to murder for no apparent reason. That would be a 10. Ryan’s only ever seen up to an 8, and that person was a jock with severe anger issues at his university, so it didn’t come as a shock when he was arrested for domestic violence years later.

Ryan had sort of come to believe that he’d never meet anyone above an 8, and he sure as hell didn’t want to. What sort of psychopath would have to be stood in front of him if there were a 10 emblazoned on their wrist?

He’s typing away at his desktop in the office when Jen’s chipper voice prompts him to remove his Beats, which he does, and turns to face his friend with a ready smile. Beside her is a giant wearing a sweater. Ryan tilts his head back to look all the way up at the face of said giant, whose eyes tilt downward at the ends in a way that reminds Ryan of a sloth. It’s oddly endearing.

He stands hastily and is grateful to at least have a little bit of height over Jen. Next to this guy, they both may as well be in Munchkin Land.

“Ry’, I’m showin’ the intern around,” Jen tells Ryan.

Before Jen can introduce him, the intern extends a long-fingered hand with a small smile. “Name’s Shane. Good to meet ya.”

“You too,” Ryan replies slowly. He can’t see the dude’s wrist with the fabric in the way. That’s inconvenient. But he doesn’t think too much of it, since most everyone he meets, as he said, is just a regular 5. An intern at Buzzfeed should be no different. Ryan shrugs it off, even if doing so makes him squirm a bit beneath the skin. “You taking the desk next to mine?”

“If you don’t mind…”

“Not at all,” Ryan waves him off. “Go for it, man.”

Shane nods and Jen does the same. “Sweet. Then you can take it from here?” she asks.

“Sure thing,” Ryan says, as Shane does the same. Ryan laughs sheepishly as Shane grins and Jen snorts.

“This’ll be a hoot,” she comments. “See you goons later.”

“She’s fun, isn’t she?”

“Loads,” Shane agrees happily, the slightest bit sarcastic, and Ryan laughs.

“I think you’ll fit in fine. My name’s Ryan, by the way; don’t think I said it before.”

“Thanks, yeah. Jen said you’re the resident Believer.”

“In the supernatural, yeah, I am. I take it you’re not?”

“Not even a little,” Shane says, leaning back in his chair. It’s like he’s worked here for months instead of less than an hour. “But I respect you, man; ’takes guts to have such faith in air.”

“Fuck you, dude,” Ryan wheezes. “Like I haven’t heard it all before. And you have to believe at least in Bigfoot.”

“Why do I?”

“Cuz he’s clearly your fuckin’ dad, you Sasquatch.”

“Is H.R. aware of the way you treat coworkers?” Shane asks, pretending to be shocked.

“Keep your mouth shut, Long Legs,” Ryan says in a deadly voice, and Shane stares at him. “Dude, I’m messing with you.”

“What the hell?” Shane laughs loudly, drawing stares, and Ryan laughs too. “You’re insane.”

“In the best way,” Ryan agrees happily. “You’ll see.”

Shane pushes his sleeves up and shoves a hand through his thick head of hair. “Whatever you say, man,” he murmurs, logging onto the server, and Ryan catches sight of his left wrist. Right where Ryan knows for certain should be the mark, there is nothing. No number, no sign of anything but pale skin. That can’t be. He hasn’t met anyone without a number; his mom never mentioned any such thing happening to his grandfather either.

Every person has one. All human beings have the mark. Ryan sort of can’t breathe. Maybe this is an anomaly. Maybe Shane’s so much not a threat that even 1 wasn’t low enough. Or maybe he’s so much a threat that 10 wasn’t _high_ enough. His stomach pitches. Or even further, if all humans in fact have the mark, maybe Shane isn’t human at all. Ryan shifts in his seat, glancing at the intern in his peripheral. He’s tapping away on his keyboard like nothing’s amiss, meanwhile Ryan’s about to have a stroke. Ain’t no thing.

He shoots a text to his mom confirming that her father never experienced a numberless person, she says that’s true, and Ryan’s gut tightens worse. Okay, this is no reason to panic. But, isn’t it? The thing is, Ryan believes in the supernatural because he is sort of a supernatural creature himself. Being able to see numbers on people’s wrists designating their threat level isn’t a regular trait. That’s a strictly Ryan Steven Bergara type thing, so there’s every possibility that he could be dealing with a non-human creature at the desk not five feet from his.

But what? Surely not a _ghost_. Even then, the body would have the number remaining on the skin after death, wouldn’t it? (If he’d ever actually seen a ghost, that would be of serious help right now.) A ghost possession? The human’s skin would still have the mark, unless the number increases due to the malicious intent of the possessive spirit. Jesus _Christ_ ; either way, the number would be there. So that’s a no to the ghost theory on both fronts.

The Fae are an option, and that would suck since he willingly gave his name over to Shane like it meant nothing. Ryan sneaks another glance, takes in Shane’s long legs and floofy hair. Maybe he really is a Bigfoot, if Bigfoot is a race rather than a one-off.

A werewolf? But they’re partly human. Vampire? Dragon? Ryan’s head wants to explode with the possibilities. There are just too many damn options to consider; the lore to delve into alone could take him weeks of research if he wanted to do it right.

Shane laughs out loud and Ryan’s head jerks to the left to look at him. “What’s so funny?” he asks.

Shane wipes at his eyes. “I had to go to YouTube and a building demolition video was in my Recommended.”

“Why’s that so funny?” Ryan asks, not getting the joke.

“It was a fail where everyone was, like, cheering as it got blown up but then it—” Shane takes a heaving breath in, still laughing, “—it just falls the wrong way, and they all _scream_ , and the camera cuts out as they all panic; it’s so _funny_.” Shane is laughing again, just breathless, and Ryan is speechless. “Have you—have you seen those?” Shane finally manages to ask.

“Uh, yeah. Maybe once or twice.” Ryan’s truly at a loss. Who the hell finds that so hilarious? Unbidden, Ryan thinks of the one creature he hadn’t considered Shane might be yet.

_They all scream… It’s so funny…_

A demon. Is Shane a _demon_?

Ryan allows a few moments to pass in which Shane regains composure and returns to work, and then the shorter man looks over with forced nonchalance to say, “So uh, where’d you say you’re from, dude?”

“Chicago.”

“The Windy City,” Ryan nods like he knows what he’s talking about. “Home of the Chicago Bears. The Bean.”

“Yeah, that’s us,” Shane says, eyes sparkling with clear amusement. Ryan hopes he isn’t a demon, because really, this guy’s not half bad. His glasses frame his face nicely, his haircut looks freshly done, he’s an all-around good specimen. 80 percent leg, for sure, but a height difference never hurt anyone. But if he’s really a demon, he might hurt _Ryan_ , or anyone else in the office. In the whole of Los Angeles, even. Why is he in the city in the first place? Wow, way too many fucking questions—

“To work here,” Shane says, and now his head is tilted like he’s a little worried for Ryan’s sanity. So he’d said that last bit out loud then. Perfect. “Are you from Los Angeles?”

“Yeah, I am. Born and raised.” Ryan swallows and begs himself to stop acting like a weirdo. He has to get a fucking grip. Even if Shane were a demon, losing his mind wouldn’t help anything. Probably that would be good for Shane. Is there, like, a quota of people demons have to drive to madness? Is that a thing? If Ryan wants answers, he has to do this the messy way.

“So, alcohol. Thoughts?”

Shane looks at him. “It’s… good.”

“Great. I’ll round up the gang and we’ll all go for drinks tonight. Welcome you to the family.”

“Ryan, as wholesome as I’m sure that is, you do realize it’s a Monday, right?”

“Party never stops, big guy.” He returns to his screen and forces himself not to look back at Shane, who watches him with a small grin for a second longer before doing the same. Ryan also has to remind himself to keep breathing, which he hopes is something that will pass by tonight.

By the grace of something holy, Jen and Steven are in for drinks. With their combined teamwork, Ryan’s looking forward to cracking whatever Shane’s hiding, even if the others don’t know there’s an ulterior motive. He feels momentarily guilty for not letting them know that he’s only going out to find out if Shane’s a demon, but then tells himself that he’s doing them a favor, giving them an excuse to get drunk after work. They should be thanking him. Besides which, no one knows that he sees the marks and since that’s the reason behind this entire situation, honesty isn’t an option.

With that, Ryan logs off for the day and pulls on his sweatshirt from the back of his chair. Shane stretches out of his own and Ryan is reminded of how huge he is.

Despite everything, he stares at Shane with open incredulity. “Seriously, how do you function?”

“Enough with the compliments; you’ll make me blush,” Shane replies, surprising a laugh from Ryan.

“Shut up, Shane,” he says easily, moving past him for the stairs that lead down to the main entrance.

“Oh, you insult me and _I’m_ the one told to shut up?” Shane tuts. “I have to laugh.”

“Oh my god, seriously; if you’re this insufferable all night, I’m really gonna have to be drunk to deal with it.” Ryan is kidding, of course, seeing as he had agreed to be the D.D. It wasn’t out of generosity, but rather wanting to be sober to catch Shane out. And drunk Ryan is no detective. He’s barely able to see straight, let alone make demonic judgment calls.

“I sure will be,” Shane chirps. “Ol’ Insufferable Madej, that’s what they call me.”

“That isn’t even clever.”

“And the hits keep comin’.”

Ryan laughs again and wants to kick himself. He can’t be friends with this guy before he knows if he’s a fucking demon or not. A werewolf, Ryan could deal with. Even a faerie could be chill, but a demon? Not a chance, sister. He tries to cool it and goes quiet until his friends show up to head out. Shane doesn’t seem to mind, attention on his phone. Lips pursed and head bopping to a song that must be stuck in his head, Shane is the image of relaxed. Ryan wants to ask what he’s looking at, but that’s an annoying thing to ask even someone you know well, so he refrains.

Jen bumps Shane’s arm with her own like they’re old buddies, and he grins down at her in the same way. Ryan can’t believe that a girl with an average 5 on her wrist is hitting it off with a potential demonic entity. Just goes to show, Jen is truly an angel.

“What’s up, my man?” Steven asks as he falls into step beside Ryan. “Seen the new dish?” Ryan gives him a look and Steven waggles his eyebrows at where Shane is walking ahead of them, towering above the others.

“Yeah, he’s kinda hard to miss,” Ryan says dryly.

“I’ll fuckin’ say. Lowkey, that denim jacket and that hair? He’s not bad.”

“So sleep with him,” Ryan says. “See what happens.”

“With the intern?” Steven scrunches his nose. “Pretty sure that’s, like, illegal.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s true.”

“Either way, not happening for me,” Steven goes on. “I’m kind of seeing someone, but it’s not a big deal so no, you can’t know who it is.”

Ryan shrugs. “Whatever.”

“Okay, it’s Andrew, but you can’t tell anyone.”

“I didn’t even ask to be told,” Ryan complains. He looks over at Steven, who has a stupid grin on his face, and Ryan can’t help smiling too. “Glad for you, dude. If you’re happy, and everything.”

“Don’t be gross,” Steven says, but his smile has widened. “So, come on. You and the intern.”

“His name’s Shane, Steven.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. _Shane_.”

“He’s all leg and no substance. Not into it.” Ryan doesn’t want to say the main reason why he isn’t ‘into it.’ Really, the only reason. He can’t care less how tall Shane is. That’s the least of Ryan’s current worries.

“That’s called discrimination.”

“That’s called having taste,” Ryan counters and laughs as Steven gapes at him.

The drive consists of Steven leaning into the front seat to change the radio settings every other song, singing along with Jen, and Shane watching all this with an amused gleam. Ryan sends him a good-natured, commiserating glance through the rear-view mirror (for the sake of appearances, of course), and Shane’s mouth turns up in an easy grin that’s somehow devastatingly attractive. Damn you, Steven. Ryan tugs his lips between his teeth and tries to keep himself together.

Ryan scoots into a spot and has barely stopped the engine before his coworkers have barreled out onto the pavement. “Are you sure you guys didn’t pre-game?” he asks, observing them all with Shane at his side.

“You would know if I had,” Jen says, and Ryan considers this. They’d been drunk together on more occasions than he can count, and she’s definitely right. Good times, though.

“Too bad I won’t see what Ryan’s like wasted,” Shane says with a glance toward the subject.

“It’s a gift I don’t give away on the first outing,” Ryan says. “It’s more a third-outing thing.”

“Is it?” Shane asks, the usual sparkle in his eyes. “I guess I can wait, if you think it’ll be worth it.”

“Oh, definitely. Definitely worth it.”

Ryan can practically feel his friends burning holes into him for flirting with the intern but he ignores them. If he’s flirting a little that’s… fine. He has self-control; he can stop flirting with the guy who might be a demon whenever he wants to. It’ll be easier to figure him out if he gets Shane comfortable with him anyway. That makes sense. Obviously.

Jen scores them a table and Steven announces that he will so generously get the first round. Shane offers to help him in carrying the drinks back to the table and ambles after Steven for the bar. Ryan watches him go and then, catching Jen’s eye, tears his gaze back to her fully.

“You like him,” she says knowingly.

“I don’t.”

“Ryan.”

“Jen, I swear. It’s not like that. There’s just something about him. I have a weird feeling.”

“Is it, like, a bad feeling?”

“No,” Ryan says right away, taking himself by surprise. “I don’t know. I… That’s partly why I brought everyone out for drinks. To get to know him and see if I’m out of line with whatever vibe I’m getting.”

“Well, sister Jen is here to help,” his friend says confidently. “Steven probably less so, but that’s to be expected.” They laugh and Steven returns with drinks in hand.

“Are you talking shit about me?” he asks, not upset.

“Always,” Jen replies, sipping her whiskey sour. “Sorry you can’t partake, Ry’.”

“It’s whatever,” he says, waving it off. “You were the D.D. last time anyway.”

“Not tonight!” she sing-songs, clinking her glass against Shane’s and Steven’s, even Ryan’s, whose glass is just filled with iced water and lemon.

“So, Shane,” Jen begins, “what brings you to our humble city?”

“Work,” the same answer he’d given Ryan at the office. “More stuff going on for me right now in L.A. than Chicago.”

“Is everyone there a giant or is that a you thing?” Ryan asks. “Like, is there something in the water that makes Chicago residents literal Bigfoot descendants?”

“Me and my brother are both tall like my dad. If you stood between us, Ryan, you’d look like one of Snow White’s dwarfs. Grumpy.”

“Rude,” Ryan says without heat. “I’d at least be an original dwarf with a sick name, like… Like…”

“Muscley? Shortey?” Shane suggests, making the group laugh and Ryan go, “Hardy har.”

“Ryan’s got a brother too and he’s just as short,” Steven pitches in oh so helpfully.

“One day, Steven, I’ll kill you. That’s a promise.” Steven shrugs, grinning. “Moving on from the size jokes,” Ryan says pointedly, and Shane grins too, “d’you think you’ll stay on long-term at Buzzfeed, or is this just a stint?”

“Well, seeing as I’ve been there only a day and over half of it has been spent being bullied by you, Ryan, I’ll have to wait and see how I feel.”

“Oh, you’re sensitive.”

“Just a guy with a bruised ego,” Shane says, lifting his shoulders. “But I’ll live.”

“Gotta keep you on earth somehow, big guy. Make your head any bigger you’ll float off into the cosmos.”

“I thought you said no more size jokes!” Shane says, eyes wide as he tries not to smile.

“You’re right, my bad,” Ryan agrees. “Please don’t tell your dad; I don’t think I’d survive a lashing from papa Bigfoot.”

“Oh my God,” Shane laughs, as well as Steven and Jen. “You’re relentless.”

“That’s what they call me, Relentless Ryan.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Insufferable Madej and Relentless Ryan. See how much better mine is? Just the alliteration alone is top notch.”

“All you did was put the word I supplied in front of your name; not exactly Hemmingway over here.”

“Sounds like you’re jealous of my skills. That’s alright; we can’t all be Ryan Bergara.”

“Wow. I think if anyone’s in danger of getting a big head, it’s you, not me.”

“I’d have to have started years ago to get a noggin half as big as yours, Megamind.”

“I have to call my—dentist,” Steven blurts.

“And I have to pee,” Jen adds. Then they’ve run off into the bar and left Shane and Ryan at the table.

Not a second later, a text vibrates Ryan’s cell that reads, from Steven, _UR GONNA FUCK HIM !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_ and then another from Jen, _i don’t know what bad vibe u were getting from shane, but uh he wants to fuck u my guy_. Ryan groans a little at the too-similar messages and Shane lifts his eyebrows.

“Bad news?”

“No, I—” Ryan doesn’t know what to do. Shane’s just sitting there across the table, seemingly without a care to be had, and there he goes pushing his glasses further up his nose. He shouldn’t be this attractive. He’s basically all limb. Son of a bitch. Ryan wishes that it could be considered not certifiably crazy to ask someone if they’re one of Satan’s henchmen, or a werewolf, or a faerie, or pretty much anything that a child might choose to dress up as for Halloween.

Ryan pushes his fingers through his hair and takes a gulp of water. What bad timing it is that he can’t be (at _least_ ) buzzed right now.

He braces himself. “You ever had a tattoo before?” Ryan asks as casually as he can.

Shane squints. “Like, have I gotten a tattoo and then had it laser-removed? No. Can’t say I have.”

Ryan knows the numbers can’t be removed but he says anyway, “You sure?”

“Sort of something I think I’d remember,” Shane says slowly. “Have you?”

Ryan’s eyes flicker down to his wrist, where the number 6 is visible to himself. He’s only one above average because he has the sight and also because he’s pretty ripped. Not a flex, just a fact. When he looks up again at Shane, he almost thinks that the other man’s eyes had been staring at the skin of Ryan’s wrist as well, but why would he?

“I haven’t,” he denies.

Shane nods. “Well, that was a dead-end conversation on a road going nowhere,” he observes, prompting a relieved laugh from Ryan. He sighs out a breath, feeling slightly less sick. He can’t tell Shane about the marks. He’s got no way to prove it and his new coworker will just think he’s one sandwich short of a picnic. There’s no point, but this is killing him. Why doesn’t Shane have that damn mark on his wrist?

“Where’d the other two go?” Shane asks, looking around like they might pop back up somewhere.

“They probably got to talking; it happens,” Ryan fibs. He has to get Shane alone, he has to have an excuse to get a closer look at his wrist. “Do you like movies?”

“Do I ‘like movies’? What kinda’ question is that?”

“A simple one!”

“Jesus, sure; yeah, I like movies. I’m not an alien species.”

_Are you sure about that?_ the John Cena meme tumbles its way across Ryan’s cursed brain. “Well, I have every _Fast & Furious _ at my place, the _Star Wars_ box-set, the _Kill Bill_ box-set—tell me when I strike a chord with you—a few Disney classics that I’ll leave a surprise, the—”

“You had me at _Kill Bill_.”

“It took that long, seriously?” Ryan pushes off the table, willing his heartbeat to slow down before he goes into cardiac arrest.

“I was gonna wait to see how many nerdy movie collections you have but it got sad by the end. Figured I’d let you off the hook, if only to save time.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I can live with that. Hey, what about Jen and Steven?”

“They can call a Lyft; they’re good.” Ryan feels a little bad for ditching them, but he’s got a job to do here. They can stay the rest of the night here and get wasted, but he’s got beers at his place that he can ply on Shane to get some uninhibited answers. This is all of course contingent on the idea that demons can get as drunk as humans, and Ryan’s pretty much just praying that to be the case at this point. He does send his friends a quick text letting them know what’s happening, and he in turn receives several eggplant, peach, and water droplet emojis (among others, but those seem the most relevant to mention). He regrets texting them and plugs in his phone to focus on driving.

The _Shrek_ soundtrack starts up and he does nothing to stop it. He likes what he likes. And Shane doesn’t even comment. The ride to Ryan’s passes in companionable quiet, save for the music, and Ryan can almost believe that he’s totally safe alone with Shane in the car.

He unlocks his apartment door and pushes inside, outstretching an arm. “Welcome to my humble abode, Mr. Madej.” He winces. “That was weirder than I… Anyway. I’ll get the beers. The movies are on the shelf by the TV, so just pick what you like.”

“Cool. Thanks.” As he’s wandering over, he asks, “You got any horror?”

“Tons,” Ryan replies from where he’s popping off bottle caps. “I love that shit. My friends say I’m a masochist.”

“Are they right?” Shane asks, accepting his beer from Ryan with a smirk.

“They can mind their business,” Ryan jokes.

“ _The Shining_ , nice,” Shane notices, spindly fingers browsing along the shelf. “At least you have taste.”

“I try. We can watch that if you want. Order a pizza, make popcorn. Whatever.”

“Well, Ryan, I have to say, you may not be a famed wit, but you make a damn fine host.”

Ryan snorts. “You’re such a tool.”

“Thank you kindly,” Shane says. “I’m good with popcorn. It’s the second best food group in the world, you know.”

“Full agree. What’s the first?”

“Ryan, I’m kidding. Popcorn is obviously the first.”

“ _Very_ nice,” Ryan says, laughing. “It’s in the cupboard over there; go ahead and put it in and I’ll set up the movie.”

“On it.”

A couple minutes and two steaming bags of popcorn dumped into a bowl later, the boys are lounging on the couch, feet propped on the ottoman before them.

“I have to say, I’m impressed,” Shane says after a few minutes, out of the blue.

“Why?”

“I half believed that your apartment would be covered in sports memorabilia and dirty clothes piles.”

“Excuse me, sir, you haven’t seen the bedroom yet.” Ryan cringes. ‘Yet’? Seriously? Like all this is foreplay to the main event? No, the main event is discovering whether or not Shane Madej is actually a demon in disguise. Not discovering whether or not Shane Madej is good in bed; he hadn’t even meant it that way! Ryan’s inner Steven boos at him, but he stays strong and tells him to fuck off. He legitimately has discarded clothes piles on the floor and jerseys hanging on the walls. Maybe his subconscious had meant it to be flirty, but his conscious self is most definitely content watching this movie and eating popcorn.

“And your place is probably worse,” Ryan adds hurriedly before Shane can tease him, “so you can’t judge me anyway.”

“That’s fair,” Shane agrees easily, huffing a laugh. The tension Ryan feels smooths over and they return to the movie.

“I feel like if I were in this I wouldn’t dissolve into madness,” says Ryan eventually. “RIP to Jack, but I’m different.”

“Oh my God, shut up right now.”

Ryan wheezes. He’s on his third beer. What happened to staying sober so that he could do his best detective work, you ask? That went promptly out the window an hour ago. He glances at Shane without turning his head, and both his wrists are still bare. Involuntarily, Ryan watches the movement of Shane scratching at his light stubble, so mundane. Would a demon really sit on a couch and give its attention to a movie for nearly two and a half hours, sat beside an arguably annoying human? Ryan doubts it.

“Shane, can I be real with you for a second?” he asks. Shane hums, eyes still on the screen. Ryan pauses the movie and Shane looks at him then, eyebrows drawn.

“You good, man?” he questions.

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Ryan takes a breath.

“’Could be the combination of beer and salty butter with a horror movie.”

“Shane.”

“Sorry, reflex. What’s up?”

“I’m gonna tell you something. It’s been killing me since the second we met and I just think if I don’t come clean, I’m gonna, like—throw up, for real. And it isn’t because of what we ate, you idiot.”

Shane laughs a little, but he focuses right back in on Ryan with soft attention. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that I like you too. If that wasn’t obvious from my agreeing to watching _The Shining_ until all hours on a work-night.”

“Wait, I—‘you like me too’? Shane, that isn’t what I was gonna say. That I like you. I wasn’t gonna…” Shane blinks, Ryan blinks, and then Shane leans further away from Ryan.

“So this job just got a whole lot more awkward,” he says, trying to make light of the situation and failing. “Yeesh.”

“No, I—fuck me, this is coming out completely—” Ryan inhales. “Shane, what I need to ask is if you’re a fucking demon.”

“If I’m—” Shane does a double take. “If I’m a _demon_? Like, of Hell? Home of _el Diablo_?”

“Yes!” Ryan huffs. “A demon of Hell! I take it you… aren’t?”

Shane has the audacity to laugh out loud. “What the fuck, Ryan? No. I’m not a _demon_. Oh my God. What the hell gave you the impression I was?”

Ryan goes quiet. He’s in so far already that not just admitting it seems dumb, but he hasn’t ever told anyone else about his ability. His parents told him not to, not ever, and if he did, he’d better be sure that he was going to be with the person for the rest of his life. If he tells Shane, there’s every chance he’ll…

“Every person I look at,” he says slowly, forcing his eyes to stay locked with Shane’s so he knows Ryan is being serious, “I see their threat level in a number on their left wrist.”

“Pardon?” Shane asks, and he looks a bit pale.

“I can see how dangerous they are on a scale of one to ten, and the number is printed on the inside of their wrist. No matter who it is. All humans have a number.” He sighs shakily. “So when we met, and I saw you don’t have the mark, I figured you must not be human and I knew I needed to figure out what your deal is.”

Shane blinks. “You assumed I’m not human? That was your best deduction?”

“Yeah.”

“And a _demon_? Seriously?”

“You’re the freak with a fetish for demolition fail videos! Don’t act like I’m the crazy one here, you psycho.”

“Ryan—” Shane covers his face with his hands, and Ryan can tell by the way his shoulders are shaking that he’s laughing. “Ryan,” he tries again, “I’m not a demon. I assure you, I’m human.” Shane searches Ryan’s face, and then stands. “Just wait here a second.” Ryan doesn’t bother asking why as Shane goes to the kitchen. He returns with a dampened paper towel, and right in front of Ryan, he swipes it across his left wrist.

Onto the paper towel goes the foundation, and what’s exposed is the number 6.

“You—” Ryan stands to face Shane. “You covered it. Why? Wait, how can you see it? No one but me even knows they—”

“I can see them too,” Shane interjects. “If that wasn’t obvious.” He points at Ryan’s wrist. “You’re a 6 too, huh?”

“You’ve seen my number the whole time? You—You piece of shit, Shane!” Ryan splutters. “This entire day I was freaking the fuck out over wanting to bone a demonic creature!”

Shane’s eyebrows lift to his hairline. “Is that so?”

“Completely not the point right now,” Ryan snaps. “How is it you can see the marks?”

“I just always have,” Shane shrugs. “I assume it’s the same for you?”

“Well, yeah. It’s a family thing. At least, that’s what I… But why do you cover it? I never covered mine because I thought I was the only one who could...”

“And I covered _mine_ because I didn’t like to assume that I was the only one,” Shane says pointedly. “I’m not as vain as you.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

“If I _wasn’t_ the only one who could see the numbers,” Shane goes on, like Ryan hadn’t spoken, “I didn’t want someone else to know my business so easily written on my wrist. That’s no fair.”

“So you did all this because you’re petty, is what you’re saying.”

“Ryan, I didn’t tell you for the same reason you didn’t tell me,” Shane says. Ryan looks at the floor. “It’s not something I just use as a conversation starter, not if I want to live without a straight-jacket.”

“Yeah,” Ryan nods. “I get it. I just can’t believe I spent the past 12 hours scared shitless that I was befriending a demon.”

“I can believe it. You’re a bit of a headcase.”

“You’re literally an asshole.”

“But a demon I am not. You’re welcome.”

Ryan collapses onto the couch and presses play on the movie. Shane stares down at him. “Are you gonna stay to finish the movie, or did you have somewhere to be?”

A small smile appears on Shane’s face and he settles back next to Ryan. A couple minutes of silence, and then, “A demon. Huh. You do know that stuff doesn’t exist, right?”

Ryan’s head whips to the side. “Oh, you’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

Shane looks at him in amusement. “What?”

“You don’t think the supernatural exists even _now_? Even after knowing we can see invisible numbers on people’s wrists?”

“Okay, that’s in no way equatable to the existence of Caspar the Friendly Ghost, Ryan, don’t tell me you actually—”

“You can’t know for sure if they exist or not, Shane! That’s the point!”

“You know what, I’ll give you that,” Shane says, hands raised. “I can’t know _for sure_.” Ryan sags a little, placated, and so of course Shane has to say in a rush, “But I’d bet my life that they don’t and you can’t stop me.”

“I—!” Ryan’s face is red and he knows it, but he doesn’t care. “God.” He sags right back down. “You’re infuriating. Like, I’m not convinced you aren’t a demon.”

“A compliment if ever I heard one,” Shane says with a downright devilish grin.

“Oh my God.” Ryan crosses his arms over his chest and looks back at the TV. He wants to punch Shane in the face and kiss him too, in that order or otherwise. “You’re… ugh.”

“‘White man’s burden, my man, white man’s burden,’” Shane says, and Ryan groans.

The movie winds down and Ryan yawns right on cue, face turned away from Shane, then jumps to his feet and shakes out his body. Shane watches this display, trying not to laugh.

“Is this your usual habit?”

“And if it is?” Ryan retorts. “Shut up, Shane. I’m _tired_.”

“Thinking your coworker’s the Devil’s helper all day’ll do that to a guy,” Shane teases.

“You’re never gonna let me live this down, I can already tell.”

“You’re probably right,” Shane agrees, but he’s grinning. It softens, and he says, “But for real, I can’t… actually believe this whole thing.”

“I get caught up and I psych myself out; it’s not the first time I—”

“Not the demon thing, Ryan,” Shane interjects, chuckling. “I meant the part where we both can see something no one else can, as far as we know, and now coincidentally work at the same place.”

Ryan nods, glancing at the carpet. “Yeah. It’s wild. Almost as wild as you being taller than the Seattle Space Needle.”

“Ryan!”

“I’m sorry, when things get intense I clam up and have to make fun of you!” Ryan says, blushing. “I don’t like this side of me you’ve brought out; it’s _new_.” Shane shakes his head, but he doesn’t look mad at all. “Can we be friends? Or did I ruin everything by trying to trick you into exposing yourself as a demon and insulting you throughout?”

Shane laughs. “You didn’t ruin everything,” he assures Ryan. “I... I’m not entirely certain what Buzzfeed’s policies are, and I sort of don’t care right now, cuz I’d like to go out with you. Without Jen and Steven, as great as they are.”

“Like, the two of us on a date?” Ryan clarifies, heartbeat picking up again.

“That is the normal, human way to approach this, yeah.”

“Shut up, Shane. Obviously yes. Obviously I’d like to go out with you on a normal, human date.”

Shane’s grin broadens. “Maybe it’ll make up for the weirdness of today and I’ll even want to stay in L.A.”

“Good. ‘You can stay here forever, and ever, and—’”

“Nope.”

“Oh, you can quote _The Shining_ but if I do it, it’s annoying?”

“That’s the general rule of you, Ryan, yeah.”

“Man, get out of my home.”

“No doubt. One more thing, though—” Shane pulls Ryan right up to his chest and kisses him soundly, just for a few seconds. Ryan doesn’t even have time to blink before Shane releases him and is standing next to the open door with a shit-eating grin on his stupid, handsome face. “See you tomorrow, Ry’.” A wink, and he’s gone.

Ryan falls onto the couch with a pathetic smile that he can’t wipe from his face. He turns on his phone to see several texts from his friends that range from _r u alive??_ to the equally as tender _r u getting massively fucked???_

He texts Steven and Jen in the GC, _all good. he kissed me_ , and just typing it makes Ryan’s stomach flip. _thanks guys :3_

Less than a minute later: _!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

**Author's Note:**

> so i know steven is insanely ooc dfkjhglhgkd but i died writing him so i had to keep it. also ik that the boys have said microwave popcorn is trash bc theyre such connoisseurs but idek how long stovetop takes and i didnt have time for that LMAO thank you!!


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